To Live a Good Man
by reminiscent-afterthought
Summary: About a man that not even Rowling could kill. Written for kissing-flame's 20 drabbles, 20 prompts competition/challenge. /Dead comp./
1. Drabble 1

Author's Notes

Okay, really should stop taking challenges. But I was stuck on Harry and Cho and spotted the 20 drabbles one. So…yeah. The character (obviously) is Arthur Weasley. Don't ask why; he was the first person I haven't written about yet that occurred to me.

Collection named because "Arthur Weasley was originally intended to die in either the fifth or seventh book (particularly when Nagini attacked him), but J. K. Rowling decided against it, because he was "one of the few good fathers in the series."" - wikipedia

Prompt 1: timeless

Word count: 411

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To Live a Good Man

Drabble 1

In times of difficulty, one sometimes found comfort in that which was perpetually constant.

When the first War began, he was still at Hogwarts; they both were. The discovery of his love for Molly Prewett had coincided with some of the largest outcries of support for Voldermort's regime, and the world outside was suddenly turned upon his head. His mother, after years of estrangement from her family, had received a letter from her father.

He'd been in the living room, attempting to track down the model aeroplane he'd received for Christmas in his third year, when the black owl arrived. Wand emerged from sleeve almost instantly, but the letter had been unsealed and read without any spell-related consequences. He was, after all, old enough to realise his mother's face changing from its usual pale progressing to a blotched red and then a stark white in quick succession was not the effect of magic but the written words.

The "incendio" that turned the parchment to a crisp validated that. And the ashes of her father's, his grandfather's, last words to the estranged Weasley née Black were vanished with a sweep of the wand.

Then she'd smiled at him and waved her wand a third time; his model aeroplane flew out from behind the curtain and into his hands.

'Do keep better track of your things, Art,' she said, pain hidden in affection.

Thirty-one years later (and twenty-nine years after his marriage to Molly), he stood witness to his wife using the same charm to light the fireplace while summoning his socks and a spanner he'd received from Harry Potter from under the couch while said boy fought humanity's war with his son and Hermione Granger.

The radio echoed noisily; he hadn't managed to tune it correctly, but it didn't matter. Fred and George were clearly audible, giving them updates to a situation they were now detached from. Like the first war, there was little they could now do except keep the family safe and maintain hope; they weren't out there fighting Death Eaters, but even if they were, it would not do an ounce of good.

Except give another Dirk Cresswell and Ted Tonks.

Both husband and wife bowed their heads in a minute of silence for their good friends, and for all others who had lost their lives in such wars.

An unintentional flick of the wand, and loose screws crept towards Arthur's feet, accompanied by Molly's (somewhat forcibly) disapproving gaze.


	2. Drabble 2

Author's Notes

Prompt 2: again?! (yes, with punctuation)

Word count: 454

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To Live a Good Man

Drabble 2

Molly looked exasperated…which, in the current circle of events, wasn't anything particularly unexpected.

She sighed. He waited with tentative breath, ready to ward off the inevitable tirade (he was relieved to note his "tampering" had not yielded any profitable results – any results rather; his motor had been reduced to an unrecognised lump of metal and charcoal).

'What exactly were you doing?' she asked, voice pained as though she somehow knew the answer would not be one she would appreciate.

'I was…err…modifying this…motor,' Arthur replied, somewhat awkward as he gestured at the remains of his Muggle contraption. 'A young man down at the village showed me. Fascinating thing.' He gulped and ceased his explanation at his wife's steely glare.

'Modify _how?'_

'Well…uhh…' He quailed; it wasn't as though he had _intended_ to hide his little project from his wife, despite knowing she did not approve in him tinkering in things "best left alone". 'Iwastryingtogetthecartofly,' he said in a single breath.

Unfortunately, Molly was quite adept at weeding out meaning from such nonsense; she was a mother of seven after all, and as such the meaning was not lost on her.

'Again?!' she yelled, and Arthur wilted. 'Wasn't your little _experiment_ with the fellytone enough?'

'Ah, but Molly-dear, think of how useful it could be…'

Molly sighed, rubbing her temples. 'Hence why we have brooms.'

'We can't use those to get to Hogwarts' platform,' Arthur pointed out, before cajoling: 'Just think, we won't get stuck in traffic and all those crowds…' He knew his wife had a weakness for Muggle crowds.

'And all the work you and Perkins wind up with when experiments such as this go _wrong_?' She still wasn't pleased nor convinced in his endeavour in the least, nor was she pleased with the state of the Ford Angila in general. 'I take it…this motor is necessary for the car to run?'

'Uhh…yes. I believe that _is_ the idea.' Luckily Muggle Studies had covered that much, although he found the knowledge he gained particularly minimal when confronted with the enormity of the Muggle World.

Molly didn't share his sentiments. She hadn't even done Muggle Studies.

'Then kindly repair it so we can drive to Kings Cross tomorrow.'

Her tone left no room for comments, nor did the muttered: 'Why they had to ban flying carpets…'

Arthur hid a chuckle at that. He was sure Molly would warm up to the idea eventually. And it wasn't like there would ever be a lack of materials; the Ford Angela was a Muggle necessity after all. At least until Ginny, the youngest of their children, obtained an apparition license.

After all, it wasn't like they could fly on broomsticks either, between Disillusion Charms and shrinking all the luggage…


	3. Drabble 3

Author's Notes

I don't know how much info there is available on Molly's brothers but I've made them both older than Molly and Arthur so they can do the whole "older brother" thing. :)

Prompt 3: tough

Word count: 347

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To Live a Good Man

Drabble 3

Let it never be said that Arthur Weasley was a coward. After all, the Sorting Hat had placed him in Gryffindor: the House of brave hearts.

He didn't feel particularly tough though facing down Fabian and Gideon Prewett.

'So…' the elder of the two began. We hear you asked our little sister out on a date.'

It wasn't a question, but neither was it a simple factual statement. In fact, the closest description was accusation.

The pair looked at him expectantly. He managed a nod.

The younger one, though he was still a year above the red-head, grinned. 'How do we know you're good enough for her?'

'I'm not,' Arthur responded automatically, before reconsidering. "I mean...I hope I am, but –'

The brothers laughed, suddenly appearing far less intimidating. Arthur relaxed as well, though his posture retained a degree of tension.

'Good answer,' Fabian replied, crossing the distance between the two parties (if any single person could be called a party) and clasping the younger boy on the shoulder. 'Good to see you haven't got your head stuck up a –'

'Bro,' the other interrupted, nudging him. The elder quickly looked around; luckily there were no teachers in sight.

'Ahem.' Fabian glared at his brother. Gideon grinned innocently, and the other simply shook his head before giving Arthur a stern look. 'If you ever hurt her –' he began to threaten, before being interrupted. Not Arthur – he had somewhat frozen up again. Brave and touch he could be, but any reasonable person would quake in the fear of protective older brothers. _Particularly_ when they were both older than him as well and knew more offensive magic than he could dream at that stage of his curriculum.

No. Not Arthur. Instead, it was Molly who had rounded the corner in time to hear the final comments.

And the Weasley had to admit it was amusing to watch the brothers, so tough a moment ago, quaking in the face of their younger sister's embarrassed anger. He also admitted that the time was ample for his departure…and followed that acceptance.


	4. Drabble 4

Author's Notes

Prompt 4: ward (writer's choice)

Word count: 614

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To Live a Good Man

Drabble 4

Having worked in the Misuse of Magical Artefacts office for a good number of years, Arthur Weasley had seen some rather extraordinary products of investigation. Most were of negative affluence or even detrimental to the wellbeing of Muggles, but there did crop up the occasional modified product of a different sort. It was after the retrieval of several of these that he had been prompted to add an additional clause in their act. Beneficial as some of these "improvements" appeared, they had the adverse effect of threatening the Wizard Secrecy Act in addition to causing a few too many glitches in electronic devices to be considered coincidental.

Very rarely though did there appear true works of magic firmly engraved into Muggle culture. One such example had been shown to him by his son Bill in Egypt's tombs, but those secrets were lost with the Ancients in their tombs. Another example, one that ticked at his heart, was sent to him from Hermione Granger.

She had sent it with a return letter for Ron, and Errol had borne it faithfully even if it had taken him long to do so. Ron had become impatient by then, opening the scroll with a feverish haste and scanning the long piece of parchment it unravelled into. A few smaller slips of paper fell out and fluttered to the ground, and his son only spared them a glance when he reached the part with her explanation.

To say Arthur was surprised when Ron turned and handed them to him would be an understatement.

'Hermione says that's for you.' Ron nodded at the slips he now held. 'Some sort of Muggle wards. They're Japanese, but she found them in an antique store and thought you'd be interested in them.'

'Really?' he said interestedly, examining the parchments. The oriental writing did not look familiar to him at all. 'What do they do?'

'Uhh…' The other read a few lines further. 'She says they're supposed to keep ghosts away.'

And so Arthur looked into the wards, and was surprised to find they did in fact work to keep away the annoying company that normally tagged onto him in Muggle London. Most wizarding ghosts were confined to Hogwarts or to their place of residence, but only those with magic could see them so Muggle ghosts generally had rather bad luck. He had to wonder why there wasn't a "ghost-buster" division in the Ministry; the Chinese certainly had and he would hazard a guess the Japanese did as well.

However he found himself devoid of the old man who always latched to him, lonely beyond belief. And he took an even closer look at the wards, getting a language and runes specialist at the Ministry to help him decode what a translation charm could not, and thanked Merlin that he had thought Ancient Runes to be an interesting subject when selecting a second elective in third year.

He found that there really was magic within after all, and yet it was engrained so firmly into Muggle culture that it would be impossible to remove. True, there still existed sceptics about the matter, but in some places such wards, or paper spells as they were called, were still used. Temples, shrines…certain old households…

'Thinking of transferring departments?' the translator teased.

'Not at all,' Arthur replied. 'Just thinking how to amend the Muggle act. After all…' He waved the paper slips around. 'We can't go around rewriting culture for keeping magic a secret and Muggles safe.'

Especially since it was a very important spell, as Muggles could not see ghosts. He wondered if they had something similar for Dementors, as Muggles could not see those either.


	5. Drabble 5

Author's Notes

Off topic, but did you know Australia hosts most of the top twenty most poisonous snakes? The most dangerous ones live _far_ away from people though…except the snake-keepers. The world's top most poisonous snake has got a 0 death toll for that reason (according to pharmacology notes anyway). Never around people to kill.

Prompt 5: charm (writer's choice)

Word count: 388

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To Live a Good Man

Drabble 5

There were very few members of Hogwart's female population impervious to the charms of Lucius Malfoy, but Molly Prewett was one of those. Some argued it was because of her House, but there were a good many Gryffindors fantasising about being asked out on a date by the blond Slytherin. One could argue it was a misunderstanding brought about by her fierce temperament…but as the last person to suggest that wound up on the receiving end of a rather nasty Bat-Bogey Hex, it was seldom repeated out loud. Most argued however that there did exist a small segment of women who were not ensnared by the Piper's song.

Arthur found himself secretly glad, although he told himself it was simply because Molly Prewett was a classmate and it was his duty therefore to wish for her safety…and Malfoy was most certainly trouble. He also told himself that the little not-so-good intentions remaining were because of the feud that had somehow blossomed between the pair since their first meeting and had only amplified since as well-directed passion clashed with a cold indifference and, at times, cruelty.

He would allow very little of himself to admit it was because he liked her, just a tiny bit more than he should a mere classmate. A _very_ tiny bit, not enough to be called a crush and certainly not "love" in any aspect of the term.

He decided never to mention that little incident in his letters home; he shuddered to think what his cousins would do with the news. Blowing it out of proportion was probably the least of his worries in that course of events.

At least he could content himself with knowing that, should he ever ask her on a date, it was near impossible she would blow him off in favour of a slimy snake…although it was highly probable he would be blown off anyway.

After all, why should a beautiful red-haired goddess give clumsy old him the time of day? Even if there were a good number of students who did not agree with the "beautiful" or the "goddess" attributes. Less the latter; it was surprising too, as beauty was really in the eye of the beholder.

Maybe such short-sightedness also explained how someone could find the scales on a snake's skin enchanting…despite the poison laced underneath.


	6. Drabble 6

Author's Notes

More Hogwarts involved cuteness.

Prompt 6: rock

Word count: 278

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To Live a Good Man

Drabble 6

There was a Muggle-born in their year who claimed to have a pet rock. Most wizards thought nothing of it initially; Professor Dumbledore had demonstrated transfiguring a mole from a rather large one at the start of their second year Transfiguration classes and there were a few hearts at the very least tickled by that scene.

Arthur was one of those who thought a little differently, particularly when the pet – a purely physical and untransfigured rock – somehow found itself into his half-formed potion for boil cures. After all, it was quite memorable when half the class suddenly sprouted boils because a usually docile classmate had knocked his cauldron over.

He'd gotten the worst of it, having been bent double over his work and blissfully unsuspecting. In contrast, most Slytherins made it out with small blisters at worst, having been working far from the Gryffindors. Everyone else lay somewhere within the spectrum. The Muggle-born herself had rather viscous boils covering her palms and knees, having realised the predicament she brought about only when her precious rock was back in her hand.

In the end, it was only Arthur who was retained in the hospital wing; arms and legs were simple enough to deal with but facial tissue was far more fragile and other organs not protected by a skin barrier even more so. And as such he was the only one to learn the truths and tales behind t pet rock…and be kept company by one, as the girl had felt so guilty about the incident and his resultant pain that she had temporarily parted from her precious pet rock in the hoped of it granting him some respite.


	7. Drabble 7

Author's Notes

And chess. Which I'm coincidently working on an assignment on (or was when I wrote this)

Prompt 7: handle

Word count: 176

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To Live a Good Man

Drabble 7

It took a while for him to get a good handle on the game, but once he did Arthur Weasley was found to be a mean chess player. His classmates had found the sudden display of talent quite surprising; sure the Weasley exhibited an early talent for Charms but that seemed rather unrelated to the strategic game.

'It was beginning luck,' a classmate claimed arrogantly after the other's first victory at Hogwarts; he had no intention of being surpassed by a measly first year and as the Chess Captain, he intended to put the other in his place.

Twenty minutes later, he was ungraciously facing his defeat.

It turned out not all Gryffindors were honourable. It also turned out Arthur wasn't a half-bad duellist either, even if his marks in DADA were as abysmal as most others in his year...although that was more a reflection on their current DADA professor than any student's aptitude to the subject.

It also turned out that Arthur had made a bit of a name for himself with that little endeavour.


	8. Drabble 8

Author's Notes

Man, I haven't worked on these for weeks *guilty expression*. But the challenge also seems to be dead so this is probably it for this fic. I do have some spare prompts, but I can't remember where I put them...

This way, I'll be able to work on some of the other stuff I've neglected too.

Prompt 8: recovered

Word count: 254

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To Live a Good Man

Drabble 8

Arthur was tired of St. Mungos. As far as hospitals went, they were the best of the Wizarding World and even Madam Solanum (the predecessor of Madam Pomfrey) and the Hogwards infirmary couldn't live up to its reputation. Of course, few people got to assess that for themselves, particularly during the First Wizarding war; most people were dead on the scene or never to be found again, and a sad few survived long enough for a trip to the hospital.

The Second War had proved to be different early on. There was far more sneaking on the other side, more misplaced confidence and irrational fear on their own. And sneaking, all because the Minister refused to believe the danger that dangled in front of his face. Refused to believe the word of a man whom he had owled constantly for advice in the insecurity of his seat. A man he now sought to supplant for that insecurity.

Arthur believed Albus though. And Harry, and it wasn't simply because Harry was Ron's best friend. And it certainly wasn't because half their family owed their lives to the boy…himself included, even if the circumstances seemed to have Albus more worried than ever.

And it was a frightening thought, if You Know Who could somehow possess that boy…

It certainly didn't help that, by being stuck in a hospital bed and slowly recovering, all he could do was think, and that of very few things with a war looming over his head and sneaking under his door.


End file.
